


Turtles All The Way Down

by kusege



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Animal Death, I really don’t know how to tag this, Meta, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Respawning, in the form of hounds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23201650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kusege/pseuds/kusege
Summary: Just a series of ficlets based around the way that game mechanics turn into life.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. 3-12, King of Winter

**Author's Note:**

> Based off something I watched happen in my current Adventure Mode run.

Wilson tripped over his own feet in the snow, skidding onto his side, and forced himself back up into running with his cane. The hunter had found him again, constant pursuit and distant barking of tamed hounds startling him into motion.

He had come too far to lose now.

Chester, obedient as always, skipped along with a hound right on their heels. Nothing Wilson could do would convince them to move faster. 

Instead, he ran right at it, killing the hound quickly, spear taking it down as it tried to take yet another bite out of Chester, despite it being a living chest, and not made of meat. They weren’t hungry, not really. Wilson looked up, wide eyes, searching for the other hound, they always came in pairs with the hunting pack.

There it was, a good twenty feet away, tearing apart its own corpse, teeth scattered, bones powder, but meat still mostly fresh from when Deerclops came four days ago. 

Wilson took off before he could see anything more.


	2. Reflections on the Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “No two are alike. Well, except those two. And, uh... that one.”

Walani picks up the first seashell with an easy smile on her face. She may not know where she is, but at least she can still find things she knows about, knows of, small semblances of home. The little comforts.

The waves crash in. The waves flow out.

This one is a beautiful light orange scallop. Its curve is deep enough to hold water, yet shallow enough that it could still be used to cover something, like... herself? She shakes her head to clear her mind of the idea of a suit of armor made of seashells. What use would that have?

The waves crash in. The waves flow out.

The next seashell looks just like the first. Which is strange, since she’s never seen that happen before. She didn’t think it could happen. The stripes are the same, the color is the same, the curvature is the same. So is the third. And the fourth. By the eighth, Walani is no longer smiling.

The waves crash in. The waves flow out.

They appear in the same place, every two days. They are always light orange, slightly curved, with a few large stripes. She finds many uses for them. She does not look at them anymore.

The waves crash in. The waves flow out.

She would give anything for a little variety. But that’s not how the Constant works. Items and places and lives reflect on top of each other, until they become indistinguishable, only different because they are separate. The seashells stack up to forty before they topple over. She tested it.

The waves crash in. The waves flow out. 

Somewhere, on a beach, Walani picks up her nth seashell. The pounding headache dissipates a bit. She does not smile. She does not want to.

**Author's Note:**

> WE FORGOT THE FUTURE AND REMEMBERED ONLY THE PAST. EVERYTHING BECAME A COPY OF A COPY OF A COPY OF A COPY OF A COPY OF A COPY OF A COPY OF A COPY...


End file.
